Protection Detail
by saxwarrior
Summary: The Director of NCIS gets a call informing him that a suspect NIS helped put away back in the '80s has escaped from prison and is on the run. Mike Franks and his newest partner fly to England to investigate. The suspect's name; Sirius Black.
1. Case Report

Official Auror Case Report, dated November 3, 1981.

Suspect: Sirius Alphard Black

Names of the Victims:

James Potter

Lily Potter

Peter Pettigrew

Terry Owens (Muggle)

Liam Kyle (Muggle)

Ian Elkins (Muggle)

Nathaniel Thompson (Muggle)

Hendrix Edinburgh (Muggle)

Laurence O'Brien (Muggle)

Ryan Dressler (Muggle)

Oscar Fox (Muggle)

Trinity Hewitt (Muggle)

Ethan Roux (Muggle)

Inigo Nash (Muggle)

George Simon* (Muggle)

Offense: "Death Eater" involvement; Conspiracy of murder of James and Lily Potter; Murder of Peter Pettigrew; Murder of Twelve non-Magic persons (Muggles); Breach of International Statute of Secrecy; use of Dark Magic

Report: According to the witness account of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore: The suspect was Secret Keeper for James and Lily Potter. The suspect gave the secret to the Dark Wizard known as Lord Voldemort (a.k.a The Dark Lord, You-Know-Who, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named). Lord Voldemort murdered Lily and James Potter, but was killed(?) in the attempted murder of their son, Harry Potter. The suspect fled and was tracked down by Peter Pettigrew, friend of the victim. According to the eyewitness account of non-Magic persons (Muggles): The suspect murdered Pettigrew and twelve Muggles in a street full of crowded Muggles.

Court Proceedeings: By order of Bartemius Crouch, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, no trial was called for at this time, due to evidence presented to the DMLE by Albus Dumbledore and Muggle witnesses.

*(George Simon was a member of the United States Navy. Investigation was shared with Naval Investigative Service)


	2. Azkaban

A/N: Welcome to NCIS's investigation into the murder of Petty Officer George Simon, who was murdered in England by notorious mass-murderer Sirius Black. Starring, Mike Franks, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, and Dr. Walter Magnus.

This is NOT part of my series of NCIS-Harry Potter crossovers. This is a separate story that you should feel free to read without being obliged to read my other stories. However, reviews indicate that the series is very good, so you should read them anyway. If you do read them, read them in this order; Mysterious Autopsy, Rule 38, Just Business, Massive Impact, and True Evil.

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or Harry Potter.

...

...

August 1993

Azkaban Prison

Several Dementors were waiting in a half circle. The pouring rain and roaring wind didn't bother them. A clash of thunder illuminated the stony room, but the Dementors didn't so much as flinch. Then, the Portkey and its passenger arrived. He was a stout man with a bowler hat. Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.

"What's happened?"

The Dementors didn't speak, as such, but they had more effective means of communicating; almost telepathy. They transferred feelings and sensations to the Minister and he got the full story. They'd opened Black's cell to feed him and he wasn't there. When they checked prisoner's effects storage, Black's wand was missing.

Fudge simply didn't understand it. He had visited Azkaban less than forty-eight hours ago. He had been surprised at how Black had seemed so unaffected by the Dementors. Fudge had given him a paper, and Black sat back in his cell reading it, completely apathetic to his surroundings. Most unusual. He'd been in the prison for twelve years; he should be mad, or going mad. But no, Black was obviously completely sane. And now he'd escaped.

"Is there anything else you know?" Fudge asked.

The Dementors once again shared a memory with Fudge. Dementors were blind, so there was no vision, but Fudge heard Black's voice, as if recalling it from his own mind. Black sounded mad, now. Fudge got the feeling from the Dementors that Black was semi-conscious, perhaps asleep. He was talking in his sleep. "_He's at Hogwarts... He's at Hogwarts..." _

It became immediately clear. Black had had James and Lily Potter killed, but he and his master had failed to kill their son, Harry, who attended Hogwarts. Black was after Harry, then he would go searching for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and bring him back into power.

The panic that would cause. "You there," he said to the Dementors. "A hundred or so of you are going to be reassigned to protection detail at Hogwarts starting in the fall."

Fudge's mind raced. He had to alert the Muggle Prime Minister. Black was a Muggle killer, and he had his old wand back. And there was something else; the Muggle crime agency who had investigated Black's killings twelve years back. One of the Muggle's killed in the "gas explosion" had been a Petty Officer in the US Navy. The Naval Investigative Service had insisted on an investigation, so the Ministry of Magic was forced to read an Agent in. What had the Agent's name been? Fudge remembered being present as the Agent interrogated Black. Oh, yes. NIS Special Agent Michael Franks.

A/N: Haha. I forgot I'd already published this one. I was starting work on another. Don't worry. I'll finish this one first.


	3. The Top Secret File

The elevator doors dinged and NCIS Special Agent Victoria Follett looked over her shoulder. Upon seeing who it was, she turned back angrily and rolled her eyes. The nerve of him. Walking in late.

Victoria's team had just been assigned a new probie, and here he was.

"Morning, Agent Follett," the probie greeted.

"You're late, Gibbs," Victoria snapped angrily.

Gibbs checked his watch. He looked back up, but didn't say anything. He started to sit in the desk across from her.

"No," Victoria said, looking up from her computer again. "That's Steve's desk."

It was Gibbs's first experience that the desk of an NIS- no, make that NCIS now- agent is always precious. He moved to the desk next to the fallen agent's desk and sat there.

"Morning, probie," called Franks as he walked in happily, cigarette in hand.

Victoria made a face and tried not to breathe in the smoke. Seriously, had the man even heard of second hand smoke? And why was he warming up to the new guy? What about the hazing? He had never been that nice to Steve, and Steve had been here years.

Franks's phone rang, and he extinguished his cigarette in his ashtray and answered. "Hello? Franks's desk... Be right up."

Franks made for the stairs, barely giving Victoria a passing glance. Thanks a lot, boss, she thought angrily.

...

...

In the director's office, the door was locked and all communications were turned off.

"Franks," said recently appointed Director Morrow.

"Director," said Franks, sitting opposite him. "What's this all about?"

Morrow hardly hesitated. "Do you remember that case you worked in England in 1981?"

Franks's eyes narrowed. It wasn't exactly difficult to forget. He'd learned a lot of classified information on that case. A Naval Officer had been killed by a mass-murderer in England, along with twelve other people. That wasn't the classified bit.

The classified bit was that the Officer had been killed by a wizard.

"Sirius Black," said Franks.

The Director nodded. "I just got off the phone with Fudge. You remember him?"

Franks nodded. He hadn't liked the man much.

"He's Minister for Magic now," Director Morrow went on. "He's just informed me Black has escaped."

Franks inhaled sharply. He'd interrogated Black. He hadn't gotten much out of him, just that Black felt no remorse for the murder of those people. It made Franks sick. The news of his escape bothered him.

"The Ministry thought we should be informed," Morrow went on, "but he also invited us to be involved with the search."

"I'll take it," said Franks.

Morrow nodded. "I'd presumed as much." He handed him an envelope. "Here's your plane ticket. Think your team can handle themselves while you're away?"

"They're coming with me," said Franks.

Morrow arched an eyebrow. "Under whose authority?"

"Mine," said Franks. "And we're taking Dr. Magnus, too. I'd like to go over the physical evidence once again if I'm returning to this case."

Morrow silently groaned. Franks. Always the over-achiever. That's what made him such a damn fine agent. "Consider it done," said Morrow. "You'll be needing these, then," he handed him two files marked TOP SECRET in red ink. "To read Follett and Gibbs in."

Franks nodded. He'd read the same file in 1981. It explained all about the hidden magical community. He wondered what Follett's and Gibbs's reactions would be. Franks's had basically been, "you're BSing me."

...

...

"Don't you know it's official NCIS policy not to drink near the computers?" Follett snapped, and Gibbs looked at his coffee.

"Franks drinks at his desk," he argued as he dumped his coffee out.

"Never with the computer turned on," Follett said pointedly.

Gibbs sighed and rolled his eyes. "These computers will be the death of me."

Franks took that moment to return and called out, "Who's up for a paid vacation?"

Gibbs bit back some confusion. "I've been working here less than a month," he said.

"And you're already on your first international assignment," Franks said, donning his badge and his gun and heaving his bag over his shoulder. "Meet at the airport at 1700. We're on a flight to England."

...

...

Gibbs wasn't that accustomed to airports. He'd never travelled out of Stillwater much, and in the Corps, he was used to flying on a military plane. Not a passenger airline.

His surprise was how unorganized everything was. People put their luggage on and lugged it off a conveyor belt. Adult couples argued over the terminal entrances as their children, unbeknownst to them, started pestering a man who'd just flown in from Japan about his "weird talking."

Everything's better military, Gibbs decided as he and Follett got their bags checked.

Waiting at the gate were Franks and the Medical Examiner Gibbs had briefly met during the investigation, Dr. Walter Magnus.

"GySgt. Gibbs," Magnus greeted. "I'd heard you'd gotten a position as an Agent. I'm very pleased you could join our team."

"Always a pleasure, Dr. Magnus," Gibbs greeted.

Franks noticed Follett biting her lower lip as if fighting to keep from saying something. She was also glaring daggers at Gibbs.

Once they started loading, Gibbs began making his way back into the seats. "Not there, Probie," Franks called, gesturing at first class. "We're stepping it up this time around."

Gibbs couldn't help but crack a grin as he sat in the plush leather seat. "Do we always travel in style like this, boss?" he asked.

"Only when we don't want to be overheard," said Franks, dismissing the flight attendants.

Once the plane was in the air, Franks wheeled his chair around to face Follett and Gibbs. He reached into his carry-on and pulled out two identical files, the same ones given to him earlier that day by Director Morrow.

"Read silently," Franks instructed. "Do not stop reading until you've read all of it and do not discuss it until both of you are finished."

Gibbs noticed the red "Top Secret" markings on it and felt very privileged. There was a side note. "By opening this document, you are signing the Official Statute of Secrecy as defined by the Ministry." He slit the sticker binding the folder closed and opened it.

It read...

_Throughout all of history, there has been a force of infinite power hidden in our world. Some people have the ability to manipulate that power to their own ends. The force is referred to as "magic" and those able to control it are appropriately called "wizards." Since those of the non-magical community (referred to by wizards as "muggles") have often mistreated and outright persecuted wizards, the magical community has gone into hiding. A small population of witches and wizards exist today, governed by their own laws and kept safe from the Muggle world. _

_If you are reading this, you are most likely a Muggle who needs to be read in on the magical community. Remember, by opening this document, you have already signed the Official Statute of Secrecy. _

Gibbs read through the whole thing twice. He couldn't believe what he was reading. It made no sense. A hidden force? Magic? Witches and wizards? The hell?

He was almost past the shock of it when he noticed another paper. Reading it, he saw it was an "Auror Case Report" about a mass murderer name Sirius Black.

He looked up. Follett was giving Franks an appraising look.

"Is this a joke?" Gibbs asked.

"No," said Franks. "I thought the same thing in '81, when I was read in."

Follett cleared her throat. "What was the case?"

Franks shrugged. "You read it. I was called in and flown out just like you were... read that same file... A petty officer name of George Simon was murdered by Sirius Black. It was Navy jurisdiction, so the Auror Office, that is wizards' LEOs to you, had to read my team and I in. Dr. Magnus reviewed the physical evidence along with a team of Aurors."

Dr. Magnus stepped in then. "The wizards I worked with weren't too pleased with my working with them. They found I took things rather slow. They didn't see the need to meticulous examine every piece of evidence we could find."

"It was a half-assed job, for sure," said Franks. "But we counted all of what was left of those people Black murdered. The biggest piece we could find was a finger off the one wizard in the lot. A man who knew Black; Peter Pettigrew. The rest of the body parts were blown to little tiny bits. Of course, there was no DNA back then, so we couldn't find out whose parts went with who."

Gibbs sat, silently staring at the file he'd since closed. "This isn't some sort of joke you always play on the new guy, is it?" he asked, almost hopefully.

Franks shook his head. "I know it's a lot to take in at one time. In a few hours, we'll be in England and you can see real magic for yourself." He chuckled, wishing he could smoke on the plane. "You're gonna piss your pants."


	4. The Emptry Cell

The plane landed at Heathrow and the team found themselves in long cars driven by shady looking men. As mysterious as the drivers were, the cars themselves were much more so. On the outside, they couldn't be any larger than a Volkswagen, but the insides could've been that of a stretch limousine. Aside from that, the cars seemed to be at their destination quite sooner than anticipated, given London traffic.

"Where are we?" asked Follett.

Franks threw his bag over his shoulder and slammed the car door. "This here's the Ministry of Magic."

Gibbs looked around. They were standing in an alleyway lined with trash and graffiti. Most of the windows and shops around had been boarded up, and there was an old telephone box that looked like it was from the 1940s.

"Doesn't look like much," Gibbs said, blandly.

"Neither do you," snapped Franks as he slapped the back of Gibbs's head. "In the phone booth, probie."

Follett, Gibbs, Franks, and Dr. Magnus all squeezed into the tiny box. Franks picked up the receiver and dialed "62442."

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic Visitor's Entrance," said a cool female voice. "Please state your name and purpose."

"NCIS Agents Michael Franks, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, and Victoria Follett along with Dr. Walter Magnus. We're hunting for your dirtbag, Sirius Black."

Out of the coin slot slid four buttons. Gibbs took his and read it. "NCIS Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs: Dirtbag Hunt"

Gibbs was torn between amusement and disbelief when he realized the phone booth was sinking like an elevator. Soon, they were below the pavement.

Then, they saw the Ministry.

It was the largest structure Gibbs thought he had ever been in. It was wide and tall with black and blue brickwork, fireplaces lining the walls where wizards and witches disappeared quickly. Looking up over the atrium he saw windows of Ministry employee offices, through which he could see said employees doing their jobs.

It was truly a remarkable sight.

The phone booth completed its descent to the floor and the Agents piled out.

"Take a good look, probie" Franks said as the phone booth began to rise again, it's occupants expunged. "You're one of the few Muggles who actually sees this place."

Franks led them to a desk where a bored-looking clerk was waiting. "Names?" he asked.

"Franks, Gibbs, Follett and Magnus," answered Franks, gruffly.

"May I see your wand?" the clerk asked, stifling a yawn.

"You can see my Muggle equivalent," said Franks, passing over his gun.

The clerk took it and looked at it confusedly. "What's this supposed to be?" He held it up and peered down into the barrel. Follett quickly snatched it from his band. "It's a weapon," she said, "and you nearly killed yourself. We're Muggles. We're here about Sirius Black?"

The clerk gave a soft "oh" of comprehension. "Yes, Mr. Fudge did say- alright, well. Go on down to the second level, that's the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Mr. Scrimgeur will fill you in."

As Franks led them up to the lifts, Follett walked quickly to keep up with him. "Have you met this Scrimgeur?" she asked.

Franks shook his head roughly. "I don't know who he is. Back then, I dealt with the Head of the Department, a man by the name of Bartemius Crouch, and the Head of the Auror Office was Alastor Moody. The lead investigator in Black's case was Frank Longbottom."

The lift opened and the man inside caught Franks's last few words. "Frank Longbottom is no longer with the Auror Office," he said. Franks sighed. "Killed in action?"

The man shook his head sadly. "It'd be better if he did. Tortured into insanity, along with his partner."

"Sorry to hear it," Franks said, and he meant it. "Frank was a good man."

"I'm Rufus Scrimgeur," the man said, shaking each of the agent's hands. "I'm head of the Auror Office now. The lead investigator in the Black case is Kingsley Shacklebolt."

The lift arrived at the second level and the agents piled out. "What do we know?" asked Franks.

"The guards went in to feed him and he just wasn't there," said Scrimgeur. "No idea how he escaped but we do think we know where he's going."

"Which is?" asked Follett.

"The guards heard him talking in his sleep the last few nights before he escaped. Always the same words, 'he's at Hogwarts. he's at Hogwarts.' Hogwarts is the school where Harry Potter, the son of Lily and James Potter, goes to."

"I'm trying to remember everything, just give me a minute," said Franks. "Black worked for a dark wizard named Voldemort... and Voldemort murdered James and Lily because Black betrayed them but Voldemort was destroyed somehow when he tried to kill Harry?"

Scrimgeur, who Gibbs noticed flinched every time Franks said the word "Voldemort", said, "Yes, that's right. We think Black may see murdering Harry Potter as a way of bringing You-Know-Who back into power."

Franks donned a look of confusion. "You-Know-Who?"

Scrimgeur glared in his direction. "Voldemort."

"Oh, him," said Franks. "Well, where's Harry now?"

"He's safe," said Scrimgeur. "Fudge himself had him checked into a room at the local inn. He's being watched every hour of every day. Black can't get to him as long as he's there." Scrimgeur paused for a breath. "What we're worried about is once Harry goes to Hogwarts. Hogwarts is already dangerous enough, but Black went there too. No doubt he knows other ways in. He's the first person ever to escape from Azkaban. He could get into a school if he tried."

Gibbs was still waiting to be introduced to Kingsley. Scrimgeur noticed him looking around and said, "Shacklebolt is currently at Azkaban prison, looking through Black's cell. You'll be joining him shortly."

"Alright," said Franks. "When do we go?"

"Now," said Scrimgeur handing him a brief-case. "Each of you lay a finger on this."

They did as they were instructed and then, with a jolting feeling around their navel, they were transported miles and miles away. Gibbs had a soaring feelings and he got the idea that whatever was happening, he was moving very VERY quickly. And as quickly as the feeling came, it passed.

They were immediately colder. Gibbs could hear the crash of waves against a rocky shore. He looked up to see a tall tower. Screams of pain, real or imagined, could be heard all over.

"This way," said Scrimgeaur. He led them to the entrance to the tower. Gibbs could just feel a growing sense of dread. It was almost as if he would never be happy again.

"Probie, you alright?" Franks asked.

Gibbs was conscious of hearing Franks's voice, but he couldn't understand what he was hearing.

Instead, he heard a different voice, the voice of his Commanding Officer back in Kuwait. "They're both dead. I'm sorry, Gunny."

"Gunny!"

Gibbs could hear the explosions as clear as if they were happening. He remembered the mixture of anger and sadness that consumed him to charge into a battle zone with his weapon. He remembered the sudden immense pain of being thrown from his feet and the burning sensation of the explosion close enough to have killed him.

"Probie!"

Gibbs wasn't responsive.

...

...

Gibbs could hear voices. They were definitely talking about him. It sounded like Franks. He attempted to lift his heavy eyelids, and at first was unsuccessful. Once again, he tried. This time, he opened his eyes enough to see torchlight. Torchlight? What?

He opened his eyes further. He was lying in a large stone room. There were comfortable couches and chairs and four extremely fluffy-looking beds. There was a coffee machine and everything else Gibbs could possibly want. Only Franks was present.

"Damn, probie," said Franks. "You look like hell."

Gibbs rubbed the sleep off of his face. "What happened?"

"Hmph," Franks huffed, as he started pacing angrily. "Our friendly wizard tour guide failed to warn us about the guards of that damn place."

Gibbs struggled to remember. "There were guards?"

"Magical creatures that Muggles can't see," Franks explained, "called Dementors. They feed off of happiness. They use them as prison guards because they just drain the happiness out of places. They make you remember your worst memories, and with all the hell you've been through in the past three years, it was more than enough to make you pass out."

"Where are we now?"

"Hogwarts."

Gibbs sat up. The feeling was obviously past now. "Where are Victoria and Dr. Magnus?" he asked.

"They're going over the physical evidence from the scene."

"There was a scene?"

Franks sighed and lit a cigarette. "Black's empty cell. The scene of the crime, probie. Come on, get with it."

Gibbs shook his head. He had to focus. Right... Dark wizard. Murdered a petty officer and twelve others. Escaped from prison. Right. Focus.

"What did you find?" Gibbs asked, debating whether or not to stand up.

"Absolutely nothing," said Franks. "There is no tunnel, no opening, no lock pick or anything that can be considered evidence for how he got out."

Gibbs thought furiously. "Maybe a someone let him out. An... accomplice." Gibbs was still getting used to copper vocabulary. "Did you check for fingerprints or footprints in the cell?"

Franks exhaled smoke and shook his head. "Negatory. No one has been to see Black since the Minister did a routine visit a a few days before he got out. Besides, only the dementors can open cells."

Gibbs shivered at the thought of the dementors. "Couldn't a dementor let him out?"

Franks shrugged. "It's possible, I suppose but why would they?"

To that, Gibbs had no answer, but he decided to stick with that theory. He didn't trust the dementors anymore than he could see them.

"So if there was no physical evidence from the scene..." said Gibbs, hesitantly...

"From that scene," Franks corrected. "Magnus decided to revisit the evidence from the scene of the murder twelve years ago."

"Which we are now done doing," announced Dr. Magnus as he walked back in, followed by Agent Follett. "I just convinced poor Mrs. Pettigrew to allow us to re-examine the finger of her son."

"And?" asked Franks, removing his considerably shorter cigarette.

"Nothing more than I told you twelve years ago, Agent Franks," said the M.E., sadly. "Left pointer finger, the largest remaining piece of Pettigrew or any of the victims we could find."

He held up a photo of the finger for Franks and Gibbs to examine. It was not Gibbs' first severed finger. He had seen fellow Marines die in explosions and once had seen a finger detached from the rest. He had seen a finger detached from a body through explosive trauma...

...And this was definitely wrong.

"That can't be right," said Gibbs, taking the photograph and pointing at the end of the finger. "That wasn't blown off by an explosion," said Gibbs. "It's way too clean. It looks more like it's been cut off."

The rest of the team examined the photo as well. "Well, this is magic, Gibbs," said Follett. "Obviously this sort of curse doesn't just explode."

"But that's what happened to the other victims," said Gibbs. "Their whole bodies were blown apart. This finger wasn't blown off his hand."

"Well maybe-" Follett started, with a raised voice, but Franks raised his voice higher.

"Hey!" he shouted. "Always work as a team. Now we have some evidence. Let's figure out what it means. We need a way to compare this kind of curse."

Franks looked at the two of them. Follett spoke first. "We could ask another Dark Wizard... who worked for the same Dark Wizard Black did."

"Voldemort," said Franks.

Follett blinked. "I thought you kept forgetting his name."

Franks threw out his finished cigarette and just smiled. "These damn wizards are so scared of this guy, they don't even call him his name. Just 'You-Know-Who' or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.' So stupid. I just try to get them to say his name, acting like I've forgotten."

Gibbs laughed and Follett shot him a dirty look. "Don't encourage him," she snapped.

"Well that's a good theory, Follett," said Franks, turning away now. "Start working on that tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" asked Gibbs. "Why can't we start now, boss?"

"The students just arrived," said Franks. "We're expected at the welcoming feast. The headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, wants to introduce us."


	5. The Target

A/N: Forwarning, I don't picture the characters in the Harry Potter books the way they are in the movies. There is one difference that isn't even book canon about the way I picture a character, but JK Rowling never actually specified one way or the other, so I choose to picture Dumbledore this way.

Hardly a feast, thought Gibbs as he sat down at the staff table between Franks and Dr. Magnus. The dishes before him were completely empty. Guess he'd have to wait to be served. Too bad. He could really use some real food now.

A short, dwarfish-looking old man was walking between the four long tables in the hall carrying a large stool and an old worn-out hat. He placed the stool at the front where everyone could see it and placed the hat on top of it.

Afterwards, a humongous man, easily four times the size of the short one, with a giant mole-skin overcoat and a furious-looking beard opened the doors and led a group of young (obviously terrified) students to the front.

Once the line of students had reached the front of the hall, the entire hall grew silent and every eye watched the hat.

Then, a rip on the hat opened and the hat started to sing.

_I doubt you'd find another hat_

_That's half as smart as me,_

_I'd like to see you try it though_

_But we will have to see_

_My job is to place you_

_Wherever you must go_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And only I truly know_

_Each house has its weaknesses_

_And each house has its strengths_

_Each house has had heroes_

_And each house has had flanks _

_Gryffindor was long admired_

_for his daring soul_

_He always leapt before he looked_

_And always made his goal_

_Hufflepuff was well revered_

_for her truth and fairness_

_She was loyal as well as kind_

_But oftentimes grew careless_

_Ravenclaw was always liked_

_For she had wit and brains_

_Too often though paraded this_

_Her fellows would be pained_

_Slytherin was well respected_

_For his ambition and guile_

_But he was also known to be_

_A dark one all the while_

_And 'twixt those houses four_

_I am pre-destined to sort you_

_I hope you liked me song, you see_

_I didn't mean to bore you_

The song concluded and the entire hall applauded. Gibbs had to laugh. The hat was a better singer than him. He wondered why the hat would suggest that each of the houses having faults. If the houses had faults, why would the hat point them out?

One by one, the group of students, firsties Gibbs presumed, were called up and tried on the hat, which would deliberate for a moment or less before calling out one of the house names.

The sorting ceremony was over relatively quickly with only twenty or so firsties, and after the last one was sorted (Slytherin!), the hall applauded and the short teacher took the hat and stool out of the hall.

Gibbs watched the hat leave and as the tiny professor left the hall, two children entered, a boy and a girl. The girl had bushy brown hair and was carrying a large bag. The boy was tall and skinny with jet black hair. He seemed somehow familiar.

"Thank you, students," came a voice, and Gibbs looked down the table to see a tall black man with a white beard standing up. He must be the headmaster Franks mentioned; Dumbledore. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. This year, I am delighted to announce that we have a few new staffing positions. Firstly, I'd like to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Lupin."

The man sitting to Gibbs' right, a shabby looking young man with shadows under his eyes. Dumbledore and the rest of the staff applauded politely but Gibbs noticed some of the students looking apprehensive. Shaking it off, he turned back to look at Dumbledore.

"Also, unfortunately, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Professor Kettleburn has decided to retire. I am happy to announce that he will be replaced by our very own Professor Hagrid."

This time, the big man Gibbs saw escorting the firsties stood up. Gibbs noticed one table applauded particularly loudly at this announcement; the table where the two late arrivals sat.

"Also, this year," said Dumbledore, his tone becoming darker and more serious, "the Ministry has requested that Hogwarts play host to the dementors of Azkaban until such a time as Sirius Black is caught."

Gibbs stiffened. More dementors? He remembered the feeling of them for the most fleeting of moments. He couldn't handle that again.

"They will not be within the walls of the castle," Dumbledore continued. "Indoors, we have four very special guests protecting us. One of the Muggles Sirius Black murdered twelve years ago was a member of the United States' Muggle Navy, and so Black's investigation was shared with the Muggle's law enforcement agency, Naval Criminal Investigative Service. The agent assigned to the case has returned and will be assisting in the search for Black and the protection of the school. Let me introduce NCIS Special Agent Michael Franks and his team."

Franks stood up and waved just for a second before sitting back down. There was a small scatting of polite applause, but Gibbs noticed several people looking more than apprehensive; they looked hateful.

"Now enough talking," said Dumbledore. "Enjoy your feast!"

And the food arrived, much to the agents surprise, appearing out of nowhere on their plates and their goblets filled with an odd yellowish juice.

Gibbs ate a bit and watched Franks, sitting further down the table. He was talking with the headmaster, Dumbledore. Gibbs turned to the shabby-looking professor beside him. "Lupin, was it?" Gibbs asked.

The man nodded. "That's right. And you are?"

"Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

Lupin smirked. "That's quite a name."

"You can just call me Gibbs," said Gibbs.

"Well, call me Remus," said the teacher.

Gibbs took a bite of pork and swallowed, then asked, "So you teach Defense Against Dark Magic?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts, yes," said Remus. "I was fairly decent at it when I attended Hogwarts."

"You were a student here?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes," said Remus. "I was a prefect in the Gryffindor House."

Gibbs took a moment to remember the houses. "The house that the hat said where people leap before looking?"

"That's not exactly how the sorting works," said Remus. "The hat puts students in the house with the qualities students value the most. I was quite a studious pupil, but I value honor and courage above being a good student."

Gibbs nodded. "I do too."

Remus nodded. "Marines usually do."

Gibbs smiled a bit. "You can tell I'm a Marine?"

"My father was a Marine," said Remus. "He was stationed in England when he met my mother, a witch. They fell in love, had me. He was discharged when I was about six."

Gibbs had always been good at reading people. He'd noticed the pride in Remus's eyes when Remus was talking about his father being a Marine and being in love with his mother. The pride evaporated the instant Remus started his last sentence and was replaced with something entirely different that Gibbs couldn't place. Shame, maybe? That made sense. Remus hadn't specified how his father was discharged. It may have been dishonorable.

Gibbs turned his attention back to the late arrival- the boy with jet black hair and glasses. He didn't understand his own curiosity for the boy or where he'd seen the boy before.

"Why was that boy late?" he asked Remus, pointing out the boy.

"The dementors stopped the train and searched for Sirius Black," Remus explained between bites. The thought sent chills down Gibbs' spine.

"The kids were all onboard?" asked Gibbs.

"Yes," said Remus. "Dementors are attracted to people with traumatic pasts, and that boy has one of the worst. The dementor affected him worse than the others."

Gibbs nodded. "I know what he went through. I stopped at Azkaban earlier. I couldn't even see the damn things and they made me pass out."

Remus sighed heavily. "And they'll be around until Black is caught."

Gibbs felt for the boy. He really did. He watched the boy eating with his friends, laughing at their jokes, talking like any other thirteen-year-old. It seemed so unreal that just a few hours ago, he'd been plagued by that thing to the point of exhaustion.

And the exact same thing could be said for Gibbs.

After the dinner, Gibbs watched the boy leave the hall. He excused himself from Follett (who wasn't talking to him anyway) and hustled to catch up.

"Excuse me," he said to the boy. "Can I talk with you for a minute?"

The boy was obviously surprised by "the Muggle's" interest in him, but agreed to a quick word.

"Professor Lupin told me what happened on the train," Gibbs started, and he watched the boy's striking green eyes widen in fear a bit. "The exact same thing happened to me," Gibbs said, hoping it'd calm him down. "If you ever need someone to talk to, I'll be in the castle as long as the dementors are here."

The boy swallowed heavily. "Thank you,-" he said, almost surprised by the man's kindness, "Agent ?"

"Gibbs."

"Agent Gibbs," said the boy, shaking the older man's hand. "I'm Harry Potter."

The name was familiar too. Gibbs could almost place it.

"Coming, Harry?" called a voice, coming from a tall boy with red-hair.

"Yeah, I'm coming," Harry called back. He turned back to Gibbs. "Thank you," he said. "See you around then."

Gibbs nodded. "See ya."

Then Gibbs remembered. The boy was familiar to Gibbs because he'd seen his photo in the file on that plane that morning. Harry Potter was the whole reason NCIS and the Dementors were at Hogwarts.

Harry Potter was the target.


	6. The Right Questions

Disclaimer: I don't even know if I need to keep doing this, but I don't own Harry Potter or NCIS. Also, I forgot to explain when I posted the last chapter, but I picture Dumbledore as Morgan Freeman.

...

...

Gibbs woke up early, still habit of a Marine. He quickly pulled on a jacket and some boots before setting out.

The night before, he'd returned to the unused classroom that had been magicked into a bedroom not unlike a hotel room for him and the rest of the team. He'd thought a lot about the boy, Harry. It seemed so unfair that he had to go through so much at such a young age. From what Gibbs had heard from Lupin and from Franks, Harry had been through more than Gibbs had in his whole life.

The poor kid must be terrified.

Gibbs was walking in search of Dumbledore's office. He decided to stick with his theory that somehow the Dementors had something to do with Black's escape. It wasn't something he could explain other than he just couldn't trust them.

Catching sight of someone up ahead, Gibbs called out. The man turned around and Gibbs locked eyes with the man. He was a pale and had a hooked nose and solid black, greasy hair. He wore a grimace to rival Franks'.

"Special Agent Gibbs," said Gibbs, extending a hand. The man didn't take it. It took a moment for Gibbs to realize he'd messed up. He quickly pulled his jacket just enough to show the badge hooked on his belt. The man still didn't say anything. Only looked slightly confused. Must not watch many cop shows, Gibbs thought.

"I'm looking for Dumbledore's office?"

The man nodded only slightly. "Follow me."

Gibbs muttered his thanks. The man led Gibbs up several staircases until he reached the end of a corridor with a stone griffin.

"Tart Mango," Gibbs' escort said and the griffin leapt aside to reveal a spiraling staircase. Assuming this was normal of magical statues, Gibbs proceeded with his sour-looking companion.

Gibbs reached the top and raised a fist to knock before the wizard stopped him. "Allow me," he said icily as he knocked twice, hard. Gibbs heard Dumbledore's voice say, "Enter."

The man opened the door and stepped through Gibbs followed.

"Special Agent Gibbs asked me to show him to your office, headmaster," the man said in a bored-sounding monotone.

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said. The man addressed as Severus left them, then.

"You'll have to excuse Professor Snape," Dumbledore said, after the door had closed. "He's not a... ah, what's the expression... ah, yes. He's not a 'people person'."

Gibbs smirked. "Me neither. Not really."

Dumbledore smiled kindly. "What can I do for you, Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs jumped right in. "Franks told me you don't like the Dementors." He waited for Dumbledore to say anything, but he didn't. "Any particular reason why?"

Dumbledore wasn't smiling now. "Dementors are dark creatures. The magic that they use has always been considered dark magic. It was a long time ago that the Magical community decided to use them as guards for their prisons, a decision that I've opposed all my life."

"You guard wizards who use dark magic with dark magic?" asked Gibbs.

"You see the hypocrisy in magical society already," Dumbledore smiled.

"I wasn't think of it as hypocrisy as much as just a threat. What if the Dementors turned against us?"

"A thought that has occurred to me on more than one occasion," Dumbledore said.

Gibbs reached the point he most wanted to discuss. "Do you think they did?"

Dumbledore considered it a moment. "If you're asking me if I think the Dementors somehow had something to do with Sirius Black's escape, my answer is no. Black may be a dark wizard, but it would take someone who has gone much farther down the dark side to persuade the Dementors to turn against the Ministry, as long as the Ministry continues to provide them with souls to prey upon."

Gibbs pressed on. "Someone like Voldemort?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Precisely."

"And isn't that Black's objective?" asked Gibbs.

"We assume," said Dumbledore. "But Black is a madman. We must believe his primary goal right now is to murder Harry Potter."

Gibbs nodded.

"If you wish to understand more about Dementors," said Dumbledore, "Our library is always open. I'm sure the answer to any questions you may have are there."

Gibbs nodded. "Just gotta ask the right questions."

...

...

Follett felt like she was going to be sick.

She staggered out of the fireplace coughing as if her lungs were on fire, which in a sense, they might as well have been. She had just Flooed from Hogwarts to the DMLE in London.

The rest of the office was unfazed, and they kept on with their work.

Glancing about Follett found the man she was looking for. "Scrimgeur," she called, and the Head Auror looked up from a case file he'd been reviewing over a colleague's shoulder.

"I want to interrogate a Death Eater," she said.

Scrimgeur arched an eyebraw. "Any Death Eater in particular?"

"No," she said. "I want information on the spell Black used to murder those thirteen people."

"An interrogation right now is out of the question. Perhaps if you wait a few days..." Scrimgeur could see Follett wouldn't give up that easily. "I may be able to help. Follow me."

Scrimgeur led her to Auror office archives and located a specific folder dated November 3, 1981. "This is what Accidental Magic Reversal Squad has on the curse," he said. "They said it was exceptionally powerful dark magic, though by no stretch of the imagination the most powerful. It shattered the very air, almost literally. It was a magical explosion that blew apart the street and tore apart everyone unfortunate enough to be within its range.

"Unfortunately," Scrimgeur continued, "none of the witnesses could account for Black using an incantation, so there is no record of the specific magic used. The only explanation for that would be a curse of Black's own invention."

"Or Voldemort's," said Follett, "and if that's the case, he may have taught the spell to other Death Eaters. Therefore, I need to interrogate a Death Eater."

Scrimgeur hesitated, then decided not to argue the point. "If you're doing this, you're doing it outside of DMLE chain of command, so you can only interrogate former Death Eaters who are not imprisoned."

Follett raised an eyebrow. "Are there many of those?"

Scrimgeur grimaced. "Many more than I'm comfortable with." He handed her a list. "If you really wanted to get good intelligence, I would recommend interrogating this man," he pointed to a name near the bottom of the list. "Lucius Malfoy. The problem is, he _claims_ to have been acting against his will when he committed these crimes. Aside from that, he's wealthy and he has connections. You may also try this man," he pointed to the name directly below Malfoy, "Walden McNair. He's currently employed by the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"Thank you," Follett said, taking the list with her. "I'll get on this right away."

She turned to walk away but stopped when Scrimgeur called after her. "I don't want you interrogating either of these men on your own. Take Franks with you. For one thing, he may be able to break them if you can't and he'll offer more protection. They may still be dangerous."

Follett nodded and continued toward the fireplace.

...

...

Follett returned to Hogwarts to see Gibbs and Dr. Magnus seated at the table leaning over very old, dusty, leather-bound books.

"What's that?" she asked, trying not to sound derisive.

"Folio Bruti," said Dr. Magnus. "A guide to dark magical creatures. Agent Gibbs and I have been researching dementors.

Giving up on not sounding condescending, Follett asked, "You still think the dementors helped Black escape?"

"No one visited Black the night he escaped and supposedly, it's impossible to escape in the first place," Gibbs said, heatedly. "The Dementors prided themselves about having no escape before this, and I find it hard to believe he could've escaped unaided and the Dementors are the only ones who could've done it."

"Whatever you say," said Follett. "You keep running down that lead. I'm gonna try and find a real one." She held up the list.

At that moment, Franks entered. "Whatcha got, there, Follett?" he asked.

"Scrimgeaur gave me a list of known former Death Eaters," she said. "The problem is, most of them were probably only Death Eaters because Voldemort was forcing them, but there could be a few who were honestly behind him."

Franks nodded. "Did Scrimgeaur tell you which ones were most likely to be taught a curse like that by the head honcho?"

"No," said Follett, "but I've been through profile training. I'll be able to tell who prides themselves on being in You-Know-Who's innermost circle. Scrimgeaur did recommend we interrogate these two." She pointed at the two names indicated and Franks leaned forward to look. Gibbs also stood and came up behind them to read over their shoulders.

Then he saw the name.

"Severus Snape?" he asked.

"No, Lucius Malfoy or Walden McNair," said Follett.

"But that name," said Gibbs, pointing at the one he'd read. "Severus Snape is a Death Eater?"

"You know him, probie?" asked Franks.

Gibbs grabbed his gun. "He led me to Dumbledore's office this morning."

With that, he raced out of the room.

"He's not thinking of making an arrest already, is he?" asked Follett.

"I think he is," said Franks. "Damn!"

The two followed quickly.

There was a single student walking down the corridor when Gibbs ran out. "Where can I find Professor Snape?" Gibbs demanded. The student stared in shocked silence for a second. "Where?" Gibbs repeated, louder.

"He teaches Potions in the dungeons," said the kid.

Gibbs raced down the corridors and leapt down stairs as fast as his feet could carry him. He was considerably tired by the time he made it down all the stairs but he wasn't even there yet.

He kept running until he reached the stairwell that led him down to the dungeons. He entered the stony corridor and came to the entrance to the Potions classroom.

"Freeze!" Gibbs shouted as the door flung open and slammed against the stone wall. There were several shouts of surprise as he entered dramatically.

The scene before him was an odd one. Professor Snape was standing at the front of the room with a toad in one hand and a spoonful of some elixir in the other. The class was gathered around, looking apprehensive. One round-faced boy in particular was looking absolutely horrified. He had been one who screamed when Gibbs burst in.

"What do you think you are doing?" Snape hissed through gritted teeth.

"That's a good question, probie," said Franks walking in behind him, grabbing Gibbs' arm and pushing it down so that the gun was now pointing at the floor.

"Professor Snape, we apologize for the interruption," said Follett, "but we'd like to ask you a few questions."

"I'm in the middle of a lesson," said Snape, icily.

The bell rang and the class quickly grabbed their belongings and ran out, all except the round-faced boy who seemed to be waiting for something.

"Looks like you have a moment to spare, now," said Franks.

"Take your toad, Longbottom," said Snape, thrusting the animal into the gleeful boy's hands before he ran off.

"What is so important that you interrupt my lesson?" asked Snape, storing the potion ingredients and cauldrons.

"You were a Death Eater," said Gibbs, forcefully.

"Probie," warned Franks. "Let us handle this."

Gibbs stepped back.

"If this is about my brief tenure under the liege of the Dark Lord, I'm afraid I cannot speak of the matter to you. I was found innocent by the Wizengamot, and if that doesn't satisfy you, I'll ask you to kindly take it up with my attourney, who doesn't teach lessons, so feel free to burst in on him with a loaded weapon."

"Who's your attorney, then?" asked Franks.

A brief glimmer of triumph in the eyes, then, "Professor Dumbledore."

...

...

A/N: Sorry it's taken so long to update, guys. Things have been a little hectic. Anyway, I've decided where I want the story to go and that it's gonna be split into two parts. We're almost finished with Part 1 now and I'll probably take a longer break before Part 2.


	7. More Like A Cop

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or NCIS.

A/N: I'm not sure if Aurors are addressed as "Auror," or "Agent," or "Officer," but I went with "Officer" since its the Auror "Office." Please to let me know if I got it wrong.

...

...

"What the hell were you thinking, probie?" Franks demanded as he slammed the door behind them.

He had made Gibbs lead the way back to their room and Follett stay between them, lest Franks slap Gibbs a little too hard.

"You're a cop, now," Franks continued. "Not a Marine. It's not your job to charge gun first at a suspect and arrest them before we know anything."

Gibbs gritted his teeth, shamed to be spoken too like such a... rookie. Or for acting like a rookie.

"We know he's a Death Eater," said Gibbs, defensively. "A Death Eater at the school. You can't deny that's suspicious."

"Suspicious, yes," said Franks. "Not an immediate threat. If we think he may know something about how Black might've escaped, then we interrogate him. We don't arrest him based on association."

Follett stared at the two of them with her arms crossed. Gibbs was feeling properly ashamed now. "Alright, then, let's go talk to Dumbledore."

"_We'll_ go talk to Dumbledore," said Follett.

"You stay here and work on your own lead about the Dementors," said Franks.

Feeling as if he were being punished, Gibbs sat back down next to Dr. Magnus.

Franks and Follett turned their backs to them and walked out the door.

Gibbs and Magnus worked in silence for a few moments, before Gibbs asked, "What is it with her?"

Magnus looked up. "Follett? I think it's obvious. She sees you as Agent Raven's replacement."

Gibbs remembered the NIS Agent who was assigned to protect Shannon and Kelly. He had been killed on assignment and the resulting car crash killed the girls.

"She and Steve were close?" asked Gibbs.

"Very close," Magnus admitted. "And she no doubt feels that Franks favors you more than he favored Raven or even Follett."

Gibbs gave him a questioning look. "Why is that?"

"Neither Steven nor Victoria would've tracked down a Mexican drug dealer for the sake of justice if the Mexican authorities didn't approve," Magnus said with a smile. "Franks sees your willingness to go the extra mile, your desire for justice. Your determination to do what needs to be done."

Gibbs smirked. "That's the Marine in me."

"But, as Franks said," Magnus continued. "You need to start thinking less like a Marine and more like a cop."

Gibbs sat with his own thoughts for a while, no longer focused on the book on dementors.

"I think," he said after a while, "that I should go to Azkaban and take a look at Black's cell myself."

Magnus asked, "Is that such a good idea with the way the Dementors affect you?"

"No," Gibbs agreed. "We need to get someone from the Ministry to go with us."

...

...

Franks knocked roughly on Dumbledore's door. "Enter," called Dumbledore.

The two agents did so to see Dumbledore and Snape already in conversation.

"Ah," said Dumbledore. "Are you here to explain your coworker's actions against Professor Snape?"

Franks looked at Snape who sneered down at him. "I've already apologized," he said. "You'll have to forgive Agent Gibbs. He's a probie."

"Excuse me?" asked Snape.

"He's new," said Franks. "Probies make mistakes. We got intel from your DMLE that Professor Snape was a Death Eater. Gibbs reacted the way a probie would."

Dumbledore nodded. "I see. Why do you think Professor Snape is guilty of anything?"

"We don't have any information to suggest Professor Snape is guilty of any crime we're investigating," Follett explained, "but we do need information that only a Death Eater can give us."

Dumbledore kindly asked, "What would that be?"

Follett spoke with a certain professionalism. "We want to know more about the curse Sirius Black used to kill Pettigrew, Petty Officer Simon, and the eleven others."

Dumbledore turned to Snape and asked, "Severus, do you know anything about that curse?"

Snape shook his head. "Unfortunately, I don't. But I don't think it's a curse invented by the Dark Lord."

"Who?" asked Franks.

Snape shot him a glare. "Voldemort."

"Oh, him."

"Why do you think that?" asked Follett.

"Because I never saw him nor any other Death Eater use it," Snape said. "Black could've invented it himself. He and his school friends were quite brilliant, as I am constantly reminded."

"Severus," said Dumbledore, as if he were issuing a warning.

"Who were his school friends?" asked Follett.

"He had three," Snape explained, with something like a smirk. "Two are dead. They are James Potter and Peter Pettigrew. The fourth is conveniently quite close."

"Don't play games," said Franks. "Tell us who."

Snape smiled evilly.

"Remus Lupin, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

...

...

In a firey blur of green flame, Gibbs and Dr. Magnus appeared in the Auror Office's floor fireplace.

Dr. Magnus scanned the room and pointed out the lead investigator, whom Gibbs had never met.

Gibbs made his way to the man and retrieved his badge. "Officer Shacklebolt?"

The large black man with a shaved head turned to face Gibbs.

"I'm Agent Gibbs, from NCIS. You remember Dr. Magnus." The M.E. and Shacklebolt shook hands.

"You were the one who passed out before you got through the door of Azkaban?" asked Shacklebolt.

Gibbs tried to hide his shame. "That's actually what we came to ask you about. I want to see the cell now since I didn't get to before."

Shacklebolt nodded. "I can do that. Come with me."

Just as Scrimgeaur had before, Shacklebolt made a portkey and instructed them to hold on. "You'll have to withstand the effects of the dementors for just a moment before I conjure my patronus, but then you'll be protected by it."

Bracing himself, Gibbs took hold of the Portkey.

Then there was the soaring sensation like Gibbs was being dragged by a rope at his waist thousands of feet above the ground at top speed.

Suddenly they touched down on the rocky beach just like last time, and just like last time, Gibbs instantly felt the bone-chilling feeling the dementors forced on him.

Although he couldn't see them, now that he knew about them, he knew there must be dozens all around him.

The helpless feeling quickly evaporated and replaced with warmth. Gibbs opened his eyes, only just realizing that he had them closed.

Shacklebolt had conjured a bright silvery lynx that had somehow made the dementors back off.

"I could use one of those," Gibbs said.

"Hopefully, you won't have to deal with these things for much longer," Shacklebolt said. "This way."

He led them into the giant stone structure, up some shady looking staircases and down a hall. The prisoners in the hall all jumped up at once.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," Shacklebolt growled.

The prisoners all pressed their faces against the bars, trying to get as close to the Patronus and its effects as possible.

Shacklebolt led Gibbs and Dr. Magnus three cells down. "That's it," he said.

The cell was a small six-by-five with a small barred window peering out over a long stretch of beach covered in markers. Graves, Gibbs guessed. The bed was along the wall and there was a small chamber pot on the wall opposite.

"When the dementors discovered Black was missing," Shacklebolt said, "they opened the door just enough to set a plate full of food down. That's when they realized they couldn't sense his presence."

"And the last time they'd seen- or sensed him?" Gibbs asked.

"When they fed him lunch earlier that day."

Gibbs stood in the center of the room and turned around a while.

"What's that smell?"

Dr. Magnus stood where Gibbs was and took a sniff. "Smells like atopy."

"Atopy?" asked Gibbs.

"A hypersensitivite allergic reaction found in dogs," Dr. Magnus explained.

Gibbs looked at him blankly.

"Wet dog," Dr. Magnus explained.

"Inmates aren't allowed pets," said Shacklebolt. "And I haven't the faintest idea how one would've gotten onto the island."

"A dog..." Gibbs thought. "Could Black have transfigured himself into a dog and slip through the bars?"

"It'd have to be a really small dog," said Shacklebolt, checking the space between the bars of hte door. "And he wouldn't have had his wand."

"Would the Dementors have noticed a dog?"

"No, it was in 'Folio Bruti'," Dr. Magnus explained. "They can only sense human emotions, not animal."

Gibbs sat down on Black's bed, stumped. "We're missing something."

...

...

Dumbledore instructed Snape to fetch Lupin and the ten minutes or so of waiting gave Franks and Follett the opportunity to look at his office more closely.

It was far less organized than Follett would've expected a Head's office to look like. The shelves appeared as though the books had been merely stuffed there, Dumbeldore's desk was littered with distracting little trinkets, and there was no order whatsoever to the portraits on the walls.

Franks didn't seem to mind the crookedness of the whole room. In fact he looked perfectly at ease as he dug out a cigarette and lit it.

"You don't mind, do you?" Franks asked after a sufficiently long drag.

"Not at all," Dumbledore said, smiling.

They waited a minute longer, Dumbledore humming idly to himself and Franks smoking his cigarette slowly "to savor it" he always said.

At long last, Snape returned with Lupin in tow.

"Professor Lupin," Dumbledore greeted.

"Professor," Lupin replied. "What brings me here?"

"Agents Franks and Follett have some questions for you," Dumbledore said. "I am acting as your attorney, so if you're not sure what to say, the best course of action would be to ask me."

"It shouldn't be hard," Franks said, flicking his cigarette aside (Snape sneered and whipped his wand to vanish it- Dumbledore hardly seemed to notice). "Answering my questions. All we want is the truth."

Lupin stood still, waiting for the questions to come.

"We were trying to clear up some information about the curse Black used thirteen years ago," said Follett, "but according to Snape and Dumbledore, no such curse has been used by any other Death Eater. Snape has also informed us that you and Black were close in school."

Lupin nodded in confirmation. "Yes. We were dormmates."

"They were more than that. Oh, you should've been there," Snape said with relish. "Watching those four imbeciles marauding about."

Franks thought he saw Lupin snigger. Snape went on. "Everyone thought you four were the most brilliant individuals to ever grace Hogwarts' hallowed halls, but I was smart enough to realize what you truly were."

"I'm sorry," said Franks, irritated, "did you know Sirius Black would grow to become a Death Eater? Because if you did, it seems you would've befriended him."

That shut Snape up.

"Agent Franks," said Dumbledore, "won't you ask Professor Lupin what you need to know and let us all return to our respective jobs?"

Clearly Dumbledore had never been on the right side of an interrogation table, Follett thought. You can't just ask bluntly and expect an honest answer.

"Ok. Lupin, do you have any idea how Black killed thirteen people with a single curse?"

Or, maybe you could. Or Franks could, at least.

"Not a clue," said Lupin.

"Any idea how he could've broken out of Azkaban?"

"N- no, sir."

Franks noticed the slight hesitation.

"We're done here."

He stood and left.

...

...

A/N: First update of since the second semester started... and I'm on spring break. At this rate, I'll have this story finished by the time I'm an intern. I'm going to do a better job at getting these stories done.


	8. Always Work as a Team

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or Harry Potter.

...

...

For the umpteenth time, Follett read over the interrogation review.

After Franks interrogated Lupin that one time, he'd let the man stew in his guilt for about a week. Franks could tell Lupin had been lying and Follett wasn't one to question her boss's judgment.

"_Any idea how he could've broken out of Azkaban?" _

_The shortest of hesitations._

"_N- no, sir." _

Of course Franks was right. The more Follett thought about that one moment, the more she realized how poor a liar Lupin was.

She looked up from reading the review as Gibbs entered. They'd hardly spoken in the week since Gibbs burst in on Snape with a gun. Gibbs and Dr. Magnus had spent most of their time in the library, doing God only knows what.

Gibbs crossed to the table and started poring over "Folio Bruti" again. He must have the chapter on dementors memorized by now, Follett thought.

She heard the sound of their personal toilet flushing and Franks strode out of the bathroom, a cigarette between his teeth.

"Franks, we need to interrogate Lupin again," she said. "Soon."

"I'm on my way right now to ask Dumbledore's position," said Franks. "Coming?"

Follett eagerly set the interrogation review away and strapped on her badge.

"Boss, can I-" Gibbs started to say but Franks was already out the door, followed swiftly by Follett.

Gibbs sat back down, defeated. Yes, he was definitely being punished.

He read over the paragraph he'd circled in pencil.

_ Of the particular brand of dark magic Dementors possess, the witches and wizards who study it notice the irregularity of how one is affected by dementors. One is more highly affected by dementors if one has suffered any form of mental impairment, including post-traumatic stress, depression, or madness. The younger a person is, the closer to childhood they are, the more they will be able to withstand the dementors affects. Very young children are almost completely immune to the magic as are animals. Equally, a dementor cannot feed off of memories of children or animals and so cannot sense their presence. _

Transfiguring himself into a dog explained the smell...

But how could he have done that without his wand?

Gibbs read through another book he'd checked out of the library, "Extraordinary Feats of Magic: A Wizard's Guide to Nonverbal, Blind, and Wandless Magic"

_ The most rarest degree of nonconventional magic is the ability to cast a spell or enchantment without the use of a wand. It can only be achieved by someone very experienced in the ways of magic and with an exceptional degree of power. Very few wizards have ever reached this level of magic, and only three wizards alive today have achieved it with complex spells. A strong and focused mind is necessary for wandless magic. _

A strong and focused mind didn't sound like something Black would've had after twelve years in Azkaban, not enough to transfigure himself into a dog.

A week into the investigation, Gibbs had no answers to the questions; How did Black escape? Why did his cell smell like wet dog? And most importantly, where is he now?

Gibbs knew the answer to that. He was coming to Hogwarts. He was going to try to murder Harry Potter.

Gibbs looked at his gun, laying disassembled on the table. Since he'd been an agent, he'd only used it on the range. He sensed the time was coming when he'd use it again.

...

...

"Enter," came Dumbledore's voice as Franks knocked.

The two agents did so.

"Franks, Follett," greeted Dumbledore happily. "I haven't seen much of either of you in the last few days. How's the investigation going?"

"Slowly," Franks said. He took a seat. "We want to interrogate Lupin again."

Dumbledore nodded. "That can be arranged."

"Alone."

Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't allow you to question my staff without my presence. Though I'm sure you are capable, you are not Aurors, and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was very specific about your jurisdiction within the school."

"The Auror Office thinks we're only here to protect the target," said Franks. "We're NCIS, not Secret Service. We investigate. Remus Lupin is hiding something, I know it."

"And if so, you are perfectly capable of getting it out of him, trained interrogators as you are," said Dumbledore. "But I'm afraid I will have to be present and that it will have to wait until next weekend."

Franks raised his chin, in a subconscious display of aggression. "Next weekend?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "Professor Lupin has fallen under the weather. He needs a few days to regain his strength."

"That's convenient," said Follett.

"If you are suggesting that I am lying about Professor Lupin's health to forestall his interrogation so I can instruct him on what to say, I can assure you that is not the case," Dumbledore said, genially. "Go by his classroom now and you'll see his classes are being taught by Professor Snape this week."

"Well, please notify us when he's ready for an interrogation," said Franks, and he stood and the two agents left the room.

...

...

Franks and Follett returned a little while later. Gibbs sat where he was when they'd left.

"Have you done anything other than read those books all week?" Follett asked, impatient.

"Not really," said Gibbs. "I just don't get it. It's like I'm missing something really obvious that will connect what I've got."

"You've got something?" Franks asked, approaching the work table.

"I don't know yet," said Gibbs. "I was gonna try to figure out more before I shared it..."

"I've said it before, 'Always work as a team.' Lemme see if I can help," and Franks pulled up a chair backwards and sat leaning against the back.

Gibbs cleared his throat. "Ok, when I visited Black's cell with Dr. Magnus, I noticed the smell of wet dog."

Follett sent him a quick glance. "I noticed that too... you think it's something relevant?"

"I wasn't sure either," said Gibbs, "but the 'Folio Bruti' says Dementors can't affect animals or sense their presence. So I was thinking Black may have been able to escape if he'd transfigured himself into a dog."

"How is that possible if he didn't have his wand?" asked Follett, as she joined him at the table.

"I've been researching at the school's library AND at the Ministry," - that was news to Franks- "and I learned that wandless magic is possible, but it doesn't seem likely that Black would've been capable of it in his state with his history and as young as he is."

"What if it was a kind of magic that didn't require a wand?" asked Franks. "I've been asking some of the teachers who have been around longer about Black and one of them, McGonagall, can turn herself into a cat without using a spell. Wizards call it 'animagus.'"

"You think Black could be like that?" asked Follett, "an animagus?"

"It takes years to accomplish though," said Gibbs, "and lots of hard work and research. Black wouldn't have been able to do all that in prison."

"Then he did it before," said Franks.

"He went to prison when he was twenty-two," said Gibbs. "He'd only been out of school four years, and he spent most of that time working with Voldemort... or, spying on Dumbledore, I guess."

"He could've learned it in school," said Franks.

"They don't teach that kind of magic in school," said Follett.

"Doesn't mean he couldn't have learned it." Franks lit a cigarette. "I think we know what we're gonna ask Professor Lupin, next weekend."

...

...

The week seemed to drag on forever as Gibbs had little research to be done and Franks and Follett couldn't do more than question the staff that had been around during Black's schooldays.

Gibbs took to wandering around the school and noticed the boy, Harry Potter, attending classes. Gibbs thought once or twice about reaching out to the boy to see if he could be any comfort, with either the Dementors or with the prospect of being Sirius Black's next victim. Everytime he did, though, he just remembered their last encounter and thought about how awkward it had been. More like a cop and less like a Marine? It oughtta be more like a cop and less like a father.

Finally, the first Saturday of October came and Franks, Follett, and Gibbs all marched to Dumbledore's office where Dumbledore and Lupin were both waiting for them.

"Good morning," Dumbledore greeted amiably.

"How are you?" said Franks, roughly. "I'd like to get started right away." He turned to the young professor sitting before him.

"Remus, we have a lead on how Black may have escaped Azkaban." He reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a cigarette and his lighter.

"When we visited his cell, it smelled strongly of wet dog." He put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it, puffing a bit of smoke in Remus's direction, who moved his head to avoid it.

"We think Black may have escaped by transfiguring himself into a dog and sneaking out when the Dementors wouldn't have been able to sense him. But, for that complex bit of magic, he'd have needed his wand."

He puffed his cigarette again and looked over at Dumbledore who was listening curiously. "Unless he was the type of wizard who didn't need his wand to turn into an animal," Franks said.

Remus was looking very nervous at this point. Franks smiled a bit. "Probie, what're they called again?"

"Animagi, sir," Gibbs answered, noticing beads of sweat forming on Remus's forehead.

"Right," said Franks. He stood up and started pacing, keeping the cigarette away from his mouth. "Only, the thing is, he couldn't have learned how to be an animagus while he was in Azkaban and the four years spent between school and Azkaban he spent working for who's-his-face."

"Voldemort," supplied Dumbledore.

"That's it," said Franks. "So, the only time he could've learned how to turn into a dog," he went on, "was during his years at Hogwarts."

Lupin sighed, resignedly. "It was fifth year."

Franks sat down opposite him now. "Fifth year?"

"Sirius learned how to become a dog in fifth year."

Dumbledore looked somewhat shocked. "Remus, why did you never tell me this?"

"Because he went with me to the Shrieking Shack, and if you knew he was breaking the rules and worse that I had let him, you'd've known I was betraying your trust," Lupin told him. "I couldn't hurt him as a dog."

"Hurt him?" asked Gibbs.

"Personal health," Remus explained, "It's not relevant, I'd rather not share."

"Be assured," Dumbledore said, "it isn't relevant to your investigation."

Franks finished his cigarette and put it out in Dumbledore's phoenix's ashtray. "So, you admit that Sirius Black is an animagus?"

Lupin nodded. "Yes."

"Excellent," said Follett. "We have officially discovered how Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban and how he's disguising himself..."

"Now we just have to catch him once he gets here," finished Gibbs.

...

...

And the second semester is now over and I actually have time to write again. For the sake of you guys, I'm gonna try to wrap this story up as quickly as possible so I don't have y'all waiting for months at a time.


	9. The Flight of the Fat Lady

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Recap: One of the Muggles Sirius Black (supposedly) killed was a member of the United States Navy, so the investigation was shared jointly between the Auror Office and NCIS. Once Black escaped, Fudge had NCIS agents stationed at Hogwarts school to protect Harry. Unbeknownst to him, however, NCIS has been investigating how Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban and they've figured it out.

...

...

Dumbledore sat at his desk, leaning over. It had been a long evening. "Minister, I agree that this has been a regrettable night for us all, but I don't think Agent Franks and his team are to blame for this tragedy."

"Not to blame?" demanded Fudge. "How are they not to blame?"

The were interrupted with a loud knocking and Gibbs entered before Dumbledore could answer.

"Probie," said Franks. "What are you doing?"

"Not acting like a cop," answered Gibbs.

...

...

-Several hours earlier-

"Rejected again," announced Follett, as she stepped into the room. Gibbs was reading and Franks was smoking (Dr. Magnus had caught a flight back to DC), and they both looked up at Follett's entrance.

"Only this time, our dear Minister was pretty rude," Follett said, unfolding the letter and reading aloud. "_Dear Mr. Franks. While I appreciate your initiative, I would like to remind you that you were brought to Hogwarts on a purely security detail. My best men are looking into Black's escape and are hunting him, and all I want you to do is to keep Hogwarts School and Harry Potter safe. No investigation on your part is necessary, as these are magical matters and you could not understand. Wishing you well, Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, Order of Merlin, _yada yada yada."

Franks stepped over and seized the letter from her. "No investigation? What the hell is this nonsense? We're investigators aren't we?"

Follett rolled her eyes and Gibbs had to restrain himself from doing the same. Franks acted with the same surprise every time he got a letter from Fudge reminding them that he didn't want them investigating.

"I know, boss," Follett said, "but they simply don't take us seriously. We're Muggles and they're wizards, so they know better and nothing we say will change that."

"Why I oughta..." growled Franks, as if he'd been expecting anything different. Gibbs certainly didn't.

The last few weeks had passed pretty much the same. Franks had written a letter to Fudge requesting a meeting and Fudge had politely declined. Franks would smolder for a few days, then write a letter again.

"You could go to Dumbledore," Gibbs had suggested, which had done nothing than earn him a head-slap. It didn't take long for Gibbs to figure out that what Franks really wanted was for the Ministry to take him as seriously as they took their own investigators. And if Gibbs guessed correctly, that was about as likely as Follett giving Gibbs a big toothy smile and a cup of coffee each morning.

Gibbs had once again taken to patrolling the corridors of Hogwarts. The Ministry had been vague as to how they secured the castle, but Gibbs figured making regular rounds was part of it. He was beginning to doubt their presence at the castle was necessary at all. Nearly two months they'd been here and Black hadn't been sighted once.

It was on a Saturday in late October when Gibbs found himself walking around the outside. The weather was getting colder and Gibbs pulled his NCIS jacket tighter around him.

"Special Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs turned at the sound of his name. It was the boy, Harry Potter who addressed him.

"Harry," said Gibbs. "I thought you'd be with the students at the village."

"My aunt and uncle wouldn't give me permission," Harry explained, sticking his hands into the pockets of his robes. "How's the investigation going?" he asked as he approached.

Gibbs took the hint and let Harry catch up with him and continued walking. "I'm not sure I can discuss it. I'm also not sure if it's worth much." Then, at Harry's quizzical look, "The Minister isn't taking NCIS's investigation seriously. He thinks because we're Muggle, we can't understand the working of a magical criminal."

"But that's absurd," said Harry. "You're investigators. It's your job. Why did they bring you to Hogwarts if they didn't want your help?"

Gibbs had to laugh at how Harry's rantings sounded so similar to Franks'. "Protection," he answered.

"Protecting what?" asked Harry, then his face dawned with realization and turned angrily away.

"I don't like how everyone's treating me like a child," said Harry. "I may only be thirteen, but I've done more than some wizards have done in a life time. I'm in Gryffindor House. I'm the son of James Potter. I play Quidditch." Harry stopped walking and stared away from Gibbs, toward the lake. "I've looked Voldemort in the eyes and told him to sod off, the lousy git."

Gibbs laughed. "You're right. And I suppose I've done the same thing, treating you like you're helpless."

"Yeah, I thought that too," said Harry. "I don't blame you. I know I don't look like much. But I promise you, I can handle myself in a fight. Even against Dementors. I'm going to learn how to fight them."

Gibbs smiled. The kid reminded him of him.

"I bet you will."

...

...

Gibbs walked with Harry back up to the castle, as it was approaching dinner time.

In the entrance hall, they bid their farewells and Gibbs made his way back to the Room of Requirement as Harry entered the Great Hall.

As Gibbs climbed the first set of stairs, he saw something down a dimly lit corridor only in his peripheral vision. He saw a tall figure with dark, long hair and something glinted in his mouth. Gibbs did a double take. The corridor was too dark for him to see anything clearly.

Sure he saw something, Gibbs drew his weapon and flipped the safety on, but immediately flipped it off, realizing the danger of a loaded gun in a school. The figure he saw could've been anything, possibly a student.

Gibbs instead reached into his pocket for a flashlight, but he'd left it at the Room of Requirement, expecting to return before dark.

He stepped cautiously into the corridor, his gun still in his hand. I heard very soft breathing. No, not breathing. Panting.

Panting like a dog.

"I don't know if you know," said Gibbs, "but this is a Muggle weapon. If I pull this trigger, a .40 S&W bullet will be projected from the end of this muzzle and into your head. It will feel like getting hit with a red-hot pick-ax. Drop the knife and stand down."

His eyes were adjusted now. He could see the dog. It was great big, and it was pitch black, dark enough so that Gibbs could only see its outline in the dark. It had a five-inch knife clutched in its teeth. The dog stared into Gibbs' eyes and Gibbs stared right back.

Sirius opened his jaw, and the knife fell out. Then, without warning, he pounced straight at Gibbs' chest, knocking him on his back, then ran past him down the stairs as quick as... well, a dog. Gibbs rolled over on his belly pulled the trigger, but the safety was still on. Dammit! More like a cop! Less like a sniper!

Gibbs pushed himself off and raced after the dog. The mutt was slowed when he turned himself back into his human form to open the great oak doors. Then, it was back on four feet and bounding across Hogwarts lawns.

Gibbs was out the door soon after it and there was still light to see.

He knew he'd never catch up to the dog. He raised his weapon and kept both eyes open. This was no sniper rifle, but it would have to do.

If he'd had a scope, he knew Sirius would've been in his sights. He was perfectly aligned.

He squeezed the trigger.

...

...

"This is an absolute outrage, Agent Franks!"

It was night time and they were in Dumbledore's office. Franks, Dumbledore, and Cornelius Fudge. The students were in the great hall, resting in purple sleeping bags. Dumbledore was sure to use the word resting in his mind. He was sure most were not, in fact, asleep.

Dumbledore sat at his desk, leaning over. It had been a long evening. "Minister, I agree that this has been a regrettable night for us all, but I don't think Agent Franks and his team are to blame for this tragedy."

"Not to blame?" demanded Fudge. "How are they not to blame?"

The were interrupted with a loud knocking and Gibbs entered before Dumbledore could answer.

"Probie," said Franks. "What are you doing?"

"Not acting like a cop," answered Gibbs.

"Agent Gibbs," said Dumbledore. "Please share with us what happened."

...

...

Gibbs watched the dog fall. He'd shot him. He'd shot Sirius Black.

Holstering his weapon, he ran to the fallen animal.

As he got closer, he saw the dog changing. The bullet wound stopped bleeding and faded away as the fur disappeared and the dying dog became a human.

Gibbs drew his weapon. "Turn into a dog again, and I'll shoot you again."

Sirius Black cocked his head to look up at Gibbs in fury and loathing. He leaned back on his elbows.

"Two months of fooling every Auror in the country, and suddenly I'm looking down the barrel of a gun," Sirius said with irony.

"Where's your wand?" asked Gibbs, eyeing the torn Azkaban robes.

"Hidden in the forest," said Black.

Gibbs didn't buy it, but Black wasn't lying.

"Why now?" Gibbs asked.

Black didn't answer, so Gibbs rephrased the question. "If you could've transformed into a dog at any time, why only now?"

"Because, I only just found out that Peter Pettigrew survived the explosion," said Black. "And he's perfectly positioned if he ever finds out that Voldemort's getting stronger."

Gibbs thought about it, trying to connect the dots in his mind. "You were never the Potters' secret keeper, were you?"

Black grinned. "You catch on quick, for a Muggle cop."

Then, Black thrust his hands into his robes and pulled out his wand. There was a bright flash of light and Gibbs was blinded. When his vision returned, all that remained were paw prints leading back into the woods.

...

...

"You had Black at gunpoint and let him get away?" Fudge demanded. "How could you possibly be so incompetent!"

Gibbs shrugged his shoulders. "Minister, I'm just a Muggle cop. I don't have the resources needed to handle a notorious killer like Black."

Fudge sneered haughtily. "I should say not! Oh, this is an embarrassment to the entire Ministry and the school. I should've realized it was a bad idea to bring in a Muggle security team.

Franks wasn't listening. He was eyeing the probie with something like suspicion. "You leave me no choice," said the Minister. "Agent Franks, I want you and your team out of this school. The Dementors will provide sole protection henceforth."

Franks was about to protest, but Gibbs signaled him behind Fudge's back. The senior agent cleared his throat. "I guess I can't convince you. I'd like to apologize for the lack of professionalism you've seen here, Minister. Professor."

"You needn't worry yourself, Agent Franks," Fudge said, faux kindly. "I entirely understand that Muggles have no hope of truly comprehending all of this."

Franks gave a mock bow and led the way out of the office. On his way out, Gibbs thought he heard Dumbledore say, "I think it is a mistake not including them, Minister."

Whatever Fudge's reply was, Gibbs didn't hear it.

...

...

The trip to Heathrow Airport was mostly in silence. Franks kept shooting Gibbs inquisitive looks, but Gibbs stayed silent until they reached the plane.

"Alright, Jethro," said Franks, once they were alone with Follett. "Spill it. What really happened?"

...

...

Black grinned. "You catch on quick, for a Muggle cop."

Gibbs smiled and lowered his weapon. "We have evidence of your innocence," he said. "But the Minister is refusing to listen to us. He thinks our input is all nonsense just because we're Muggles."

Black laughed. "The bureaucracy of Wizarding government finally starts interfering with Muggle police work. And the Ministry tries so hard to keep our two worlds apart." His face grew darker as the sun set and he spoke seriously. "The Minister will never listen to you, but if I can get the proof of my innocence, Peter Pettigrew, to expose himself, I will be a free man again."

"The castle will know you're here," said Gibbs. "And they'll figure out by now that I followed you out here."

"If you fail to capture me, though," said Black, "the Minister will probably be so ashamed of involving you that he'll hightail you back to America as fast as he can."

"Giving you a clear path to get the proof you need." Gibbs holstered his weapon. "Good luck to you."

Black nodded and started walking toward the village.

"And Sirius," Gibbs called and the shaggy man turned once more to look at him. "Petty Officer George Simon was one of the Muggles murdered by Pettigrew."

Black said nothing.

"The man served his country with honor. Please give him justice."

Black nodded.

...

...

Follett could only look at him. "That wasn't the smartest move. What if Black wasn't innocent?"

"All the evidence points to the fact he is," said Franks. "And if the Minister doesn't want to hear it, let them. They'll pay for this mistake some day, I guarantee it."

Gibbs nodded. He looked out the plane window as he soared through the clouds. He hadn't gotten a chance to speak to Harry before the team had left. Gibbs smiled at the thought of him. The kid was brave and smart and tough. Gibbs knew that Harry would be the one to clear Sirius' name. They would be a family, like they were supposed to be, and Sirius would be a free man.

Gibbs couldn't explain how he knew, and when he explained this to Franks, the older agent only said, "Call it a gut feeling, probie. That excuse always works."


End file.
